


Angels Are Eating Me

by ThanRein



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Crazy Dean Winchester, Eventual Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Protective Lucifer, Sick Dean Winchester, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-01-31 09:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12679158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanRein/pseuds/ThanRein
Summary: The very first time Sam had noticed that there was something wrong was when he was fourteen and he'd gotten into some pretty major trouble for the first time.He'd blown it off and now Dean's headaches were turning into something even John would notice.If John noticed, he'd be sending Dean to be locked away in a psych ward and that is one thing that Sam cannot let happen no matter what John thinks or says is "good for the family".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Woof. Alrighty then. I have zero idea what's solidly going on in my life and just kinda want to...write it out. Yeah. Alright.
> 
> Anyway, there should be a disclaimer saying I own nothing and I hope you like whatever the fuck I just vomited into a word document.

“Sam, you coming?”

Lucille was a little girl, stature-wise but in no other way. Her loud, slightly invasive personality is one of the only reasons she really even started talking to Sam, honestly. She thought of him as intriguing, if not a little shy and conservative. Time to fix that.

Sam, currently, was outside the motel he and his family were staying at. John had left on a hunt so it was just Sam and Dean. The latter of which was sleeping as it was nearing two in the morning and at eighteen, Dean was already trying to study for hunting purposes and his schooling until his brain melted; he was dead to the world and Sam wanted him to stay that way.

Lucille had texted him and made him come out to talk to her. At the moment he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and was regretting even getting up to check his phone, much less actually listen to what Lucille had convinced him to do.

“Coming where?”

Lucille rolled her eyes and made some exaggerated movement that relayed her sarcasm perfectly. “The factory, duh.”

Oh, yeah. Sam remembered clearly, now. The purple-haired girl in front of him had been talking about breaking into a nearby factory shut down a few months ago for health violations with a few of their other friends. Wasn’t old or creepy, so they wanted to be the first to break in and vandalize it. Sam hadn’t realized they were serious about this until now.

Sam debated internally, looking back nervously at the door. He could imagine how pissed Dean would be if he wasn’t back by the time their alarm went off and consequently found out what he was doing. He could also imagine the lashing his dad would give Dean for not watching him and Sam for sneaking out without telling Dean. However...this could be really fun and Dean would never let him do something like this if he were awake.

“Alright, just give me a moment to get my pants and shoes,” Sam decided, holding out a hand to make sure she stayed and didn’t leave without him. Lucille had other plans and followed the fourteen-year-old into the motel room.

She caught the weird look he directed at her and made a face, crossing her arms. “I wanna see what your brother looks like. I never see him and you never tell me,” she snapped defensively. Sam shrugged after a moment, letting her follow him in. 

Their quiet whispering dwindled to nothing but shallow breaths as they tiptoed their way around waking Dean. Lucille walked over to the sleeping figure on the bed as Sam grabbed his clothes from a thankfully already opened duffel bag at the foot of his own bed, sneaking into the bathroom to change.

Lucille went for the weird “ninja” movements everyone does when trying to be quiet even though it probably has nothing to do with actually being silent. She failed when she was four steps from the edge of the bed and stepped on a creaky floorboard underneath the worn carpet. She winced and immediately took her foot off, moving no longer. Sam stepped out of the bathroom, jeans and shoes and jacket on, phone in hand, just in time to catch the movement and Dean’s body freezing. 

All three sat in dead silence as they waited for Dean to decide what the hell he was doing. The eighteen-year old let out a deep sigh and stretched briefly before burying his face in the pillow and accidentally revealing the knife clenched in his hand. The flash from the streetlight outside caught the blade and reflected the light into their faces. 

Sam’s friend bolted out the door they’d left open on an accident that could be passed off as clever forethought. Sam followed her and shut the door as noiselessly as possible. He turned only to get a face full of angry midget.

“What the hell! A knife?” she whisper-screamed, still painfully aware of the sleeping, knife-wielding brother of her new best friend. Her eyes were wide and she looked paler than normal, even in the yellow street lamp above them.

Sam ran a hand through his hair- one annoying habit he picked up from his lunatic brother- and looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say. He glanced back up but didn’t look her in the eye. “He’s...paranoid?”

Lucille’s half-terrified expression melting into one that read “done”. She didn’t move for a few seconds, making eye contact with Sam’s face- he was still refusing to look directly at her- and just staring. Her hands flapped out and she spun around after a moment, marching off in some random direction. Sam scrambled after her, trying to get his footing so his ridiculously long legs could catch him up to her. 

She was stomping off angrily, leading him off to nowhere and Sam wondered where the hell they were going. He glanced behind him at the motel in the distance. Dean was always the one who was good with directions. Would he be able to find his way back to his brother before the alarm goes off?

“Hey, so...I know I’ve only been here like two and a half weeks, but I’m also pretty sure that this is not the way to the factory.”

“Nope.”

Sam sat silent, waiting for more. Nothing more came. “Then where are we going?”

“We’re gonna go pick up Georgie.”

Georgie was this overweight Irish kid (he didn’t look it, though) with a strong likeness for the color green, especially when it came to icing. One time, he dyed himself green for St Patrick’s Day, including his hair and skin and clothes. There were pictures. Georgie was also a notorious sleep-addict. 

“Georgie? You sure he’s even going to get up?”

“Pfft, yeah? I already called him and he’s getting ready as we speak.” She said it like it was obvious. Georgie was more her friend than his, but Sam still found it really hard to believe that that kid could roll himself out of bed this early.

She led him confidently through the woods while he was wondering why the stretch of trees was so creepy. He slunk a little closer to the over-confident girl with glances all around. He felt paranoid as can be and was unsure of his abilities to defend himself. Wait, he didn’t even bring a weapon; he was unarmed if he was attacked. Damn, where was Dean when you needed him? His brother was always prepared.

“Wait.” Lucille stopped suddenly and he almost tripped over her. She turned around and held up a hand to her face, pressing one finger against her lips. “Shh.” She motioned him to follow her as she went right back into “ninja” mode, this time stepping on dry sticks that cracked loudly instead of floorboards that creaked. 

He stifled a short laugh that likely would’ve sounded like a bark. She was so bad at this. John would’ve killed him if he’d gone on hunts like that. He went into his own ninja mode and crept soundlessly behind her, hiding in the shadows made by the trees. Another street lamp with a dirty yellow glow was casting dark streaks and bright highlights on and around the trees. Through those stripes Sam saw the large outline of Georgie, creeping a lot quieter than Lucille was. He had to stifle a laugh as he saw Georgie spot him and hold his index finger in the international “shh” motion.

Lucille looked around and searched for him. “Sam? Sam!” she whisper-yelled.

“Right here.” The murmur from somewhere behind and to her left made her jump. She twisted and snarled in his direction and shot her arm forward. Sam dodged out of her reach with a grin splitting his face. He glanced upward to see that Georgie moved closer. He was much better at this than Lucille. 

Lucille had pulled back and crossed her arms. He ignored her angry huff. “What are we doing?”

“I wanna scare the living shit out of Georgie.” Her tone was of fond exasperation as she growled at the boy. “Can we get back to doing that before Georgie hears us and-”

“Hey, there, Lucy.” 

The girl leaped out of her skin and spun around, smacking a hand into Georgie’s upper arm with a scowl. Her speed was amazing; Georgie didn’t see it coming, much less have any time to move out of the way.

“Fuck you, Georgie!”

The pale boy threw back his head and laughed, the sound of his voice echoing throughout the woods and making everything a whole lot less creepy.

“Sorry, sorry, I just heard you and I came to check it out and it ended being you and I just couldn’t resist once I noticed you didn’t know I was there,” Georgie rambled, wiping away a fake tear. “Anyways, that was some pretty funny shit ri-”

“Shut the fuck up, Georgie,” Lucille cut off. “Let’s just go before Sam’s psychopath brother wakes up and skins us alive.”

That caught the newest arrival off-guard. “Wait, what? Explain this to me; I’m so confused.”

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes as Lucille spun off on her tale as she led them toward the factory in mind.

“Omigod, so, I go to get Sam and convince him to come with us and he comes out and he’s all willing to go, right?”

“Okay.”

“And then he gets all nervous because his brother’s inside their room and he doesn’t want him to wake up and discover that he’s not there, but I manage to convince him and he goes in to change and get ready to go. I really wanted to know what this brother looked like because Sam never shares anything about this brother ever.”

“I know! Sam, why don’t you talk about him?”

“Not now, Georgie I want to finish. So like I follow him in, right? And Sam goes to get ready and I see this massive lump on the bed and I go to see what his brother looks like when I step on this creaky board because my awesome ninja skills failed me. Then he almost woke up!”

“But did he?”

“What the hell do you think “almost” means, Georgie? Of course, he didn’t! Anyway, he starts to shift and stretch and I’m so convinced that his brother was going to catch us and ground Sam forever but it was something totally worse!” 

“What could he have done if he was still-”

“Georgie! No interrupting!”

“Sorry!”

“So he stretches and then this light is flashing in front of my eyes and I’m like ‘What the fuck is that?’ and move out of the way so I could see what it was and the fucker had a knife under his pillow!”

“What!? No freaking way!”

“He did! And I didn’t even get to see what his face looked like.”

“Lucy, I think the most important thing here is that Sam has freaking Michael Myers as a brother!”

Sam has to interject. Dean might be paranoid, but he most certainly hasn’t killed anyone. “Guys, okay. He might be a little paranoid with intruders, but he was attacked in his sleep when he was little and can’t help it but be a little cautious.” That little lie wasn’t going to really hurt, now was it? Nah.

“Dude! That’s when you learn to lock the fucking door!” Lucille snaps, riled up now. Her purple hair looks a bit mussed compared to before.

Sam opens his mouth to defend his brother when Georgie steps in.

“Hey, guys, look,” he says, pointing to the massive building Sam somehow missed during his preoccupation with Lucille and Georgie’s conversation.

The factory wasn’t anything too impressive. It was old; the brick walls were worn and had ivy growing along most of the back half of the building, where it sat closer to the tree line. It was easily six stories tall, but the section they were looking at was one floor with a really high ceiling for the massive pieces of equipment. Clearly, this wasn’t the factory that Sam thought Lucille had been talking about vandalizing.

“What? Wait, I thought we were going to the new one?”

Lucille turned and gave his a stare-down that was rather self-promoting. She looked proud of herself. “Would you really have gone with if you knew where we were really going?”

She had a really good point there. There was absolutely no way Sam would’ve gone to a place like this without Dean or Dean checking it out first. His thought process was clearly showing on his face because Lucille smirked and peacocked.

“Oooh! She got you there, boy!” Georgie drawled out. He waggled his eyebrows and wiggled his shoulders, nudging Sam a bit with one of them. Since the boy was nearly as tall as Sam and had quite a bit of weight to him, Sam nearly fell over.

“Hey!” he squawks, narrowing his eyes a bit in indignation. 

“Stop flirting and get your asses over here! I can’t do this by myself!” Lucille shouts over her shoulder from where she is on the front steps of the old building’s back entrance.

Once the two get over there they could see the problem; the door rusted shut. The two boys shared a look before Sam quickly backed off, quickly getting out of having to be the one to break it down. Georgie saw his loss and lost it.

“Thanks a freaking lot, guys. Means so much that you’d let me do this-”

“Come on, Georgie! I’ll bring you out for ice cream next weekend!”

Georgie obviously liked the idea because he kept his complaints to snide comments under his breath as he turned back to the rusty door. He slammed his shoulder into with a bit of force generated from a few steps. Georgie whines, rubbing his shoulder and holding it to him gingerly. 

“Fuck, that was useless,” Lucille commented, ignoring Georgie. She squinted at the door. “Omigod.” 

“What?” 

“The door opens out.”

“I really fricking hate you.”

“Shut up, Georgie. Let’s just go inside.”

The door swung open with a hard tug to break the rust. It groaned in protest but followed through, opening wide before getting stuck on a particularly thick patch of rust. There was just enough room to get in.

The three sat still for a moment, looking into the dark corridors to attempt to see what the hell they were getting into. The ivy outside had grown through the broken windows and started to cover the walls. The only light was the emergency lights that only half-worked and flickered horrendously.

“Gross,” Sam muttered as he spotted the thick cobwebs coating the corners of the walls and most everything that created a little edge for the spiders to create those webs. Lucille winced as she looked at how dark it was. Sam noticed and asked, “So, what are we going to do about not tripping and dying?”

“Good thing I brought flashlights,” Georgie said deadpan, pulling out a backpack no one had seen before.

“Yeah, Georgie!” Sam cheered, grabbing one of the three he pulled out of the small bag. 

Georgie preened. “I also brought snacks.” Lucille rolled her eyes at him and snatched her own flashlight from him, moving into the hallway with confidence only she could fake. She got a few steps before she turned around, looking back at the two boys who had yet to step in. That’s when she lost her faith in herself and called out for them.

They followed, their steps a lot slower and quieter than Lucille’s had been in their shared wariness. Lucille, assured by their presence behind her, continued forward excitedly. She hopped around the halls, taking in whatever sights she shined her light on and bounding forward to see more and more.

Georgie and Sam stuck close together, always in touching distance just in case of something, nothing specific. Their lights moved a lot more slowly, lingering on the details and reading the signs that were spread across the walls and blurred by dust and webs. Georgie’s light caught on the broken clock in the middle of the wall. The time said 12:32.

Sam checked his watch. 3:16. He had plenty of time. Two hours until they needed to leave and head back. 

“Guys!” Lucille called from somewhere around a corner or in a room. The walls, further down in the halls, were broken up by about a dozen walls before it split off into more corridors.

“Where are you?” Sam called, cupping his hands around his mouth. Lucille popped her head around the doorframe of one of the entrances on the left. She babbled something unintelligible and disappeared right back with her energetic air. The two males shared another look, tracing her steps to the door. They got to the entrance and shined their flashlights down into the room.

Just kidding; it wasn’t a room. It was a new hallway, only about five feet long, that led to set of stairs going both upward and down, sealed by a metal door. Lucille had managed to pry the door open loudly, the metal groaning as she used her minuscule body weight to shake it free.

“So...you wanna go up or down?”

“Up, definitely up. We ain’t gonna be going down to the basement. Uh-uh. No way. I ain’t goin’.” Georgie crossed his arms and threw his head back, twisting himself away as to not look at the offending staircase.

Lucille rolled her eyes in sync with Sam, but she took a step forward and dragged him toward the now-open door. “Sucks. Get your ass moving and we can go upstairs instead of the basement, okay?”

Georgie’s expression, though still sour, had softened a little bit with Lucille’s promise. “Okay,” he agreed stiffly. Sam wanted to ask if he wanted to just leave now and go back home, but he held his tongue, knowing the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated all that much. He must’ve made a face because Georgie added on, “It’s fine. Let’s just go before I lose my nerve.” 

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I am. Relax, Sam. I think you have more stress about me stressing than I have about this entire thing.” Georgie took lead, marching his way through the rusted doorway that Lucille had managed to open. The girl followed after a shrug in Sam’s direction. The door protested as it was opened against its attempts to shut itself.

“Do not,” Sam huffed, crossing his arms before following after the duo, placing a hand gingerly on the oxidised metal as to not cut himself open, get tetanus, and then be forced to explain how he got it to both his dad and Dean and have one kill him, only to resurrect him and have the other one kill him.

The winding staircase was in a lot better condition than the metal doorways. The polish had held up over the years and was only just now beginning to be eaten away by everything that scuttled across it without constant repairs. The hallways here, though, had a hell of a lot more spiders than the main hallways. There were a few windows that had broken- likely from kids throwing rocks to hear the glass shatter- and it let the cool night air breeze through the enclosed space. Sam shuddered minutely once it hit him.

“Woah,” Lucille murmured. She was further along in the stairwell than Sam.

“Huh?” Sam went to look at her but was stopped. “What the-” Sam choked out as he slammed hard into Georgie’s back.

“We ain’t gettin’ up those stairs,” the larger boy responded, moving a bit to the side to let Sam see around him. Sam took the hint and shouldered his way between him and Lucille.

Georgie most certainly wasn’t wrong; the staircase had rotted and broken, splintering until it gave way and revealed the support system underneath that, too, had rotted away to break and land on the set of steps leading down to the lower level they’d elected to not take.

Sam hummed. “Well, I didn’t come here to not look at anything, so it looks like we’re going downstairs...to the basement.” Sam jolted Georgie with a shake to his shoulders and the latter swatted in annoyance at the former.

Lucille bounced away, chattering about everything she saw and how cool it was and how she loved being here. The two boys followed her, one with calm excitement and the other with bitter reluctance.

“This is a terrible, terrible idea. I don’t know what the heck you white folk are thinking, but I’m pretty sure it’s along the lines of those people who die in the horror films,” Georgie ranted once the trio had made it to the lowest level. It had no door, strangely, but did have hinges. It freaked the boy out. They all waved their flashlights to see as much as they could without actually having to step foot into the massive room.

They saw rows and rows of wire shelving, filled with boxes and things packaged in saran wrap or paper folders. Everything was dusty and, obviously, the spiders’ evidence of invasion, but it looked empty and relatively safe.

“HELLO!” Lucille screamed, her hands cupped around her mouth. She giggled as the basement bounced her voice between the walls. Her laugh echoed, too. “Let’s go in!” She darted forward, between two of the shelving units. Sam was the first to react, scrambling to catch up with the quick girl. 

Georgie was a little belated in his realization of what was happening, so he brought up the rear a few seconds behind Sam and going at a slower pace than either of his other two companions. He lost sight of his two friends and called after them, “Sam! Lucille! Wait up!”

Lucille and Sam had already bounded away, their adrenaline overtaking them and pushing them far into the room. They only stopped when they came to the other side and was met with a wall.

“Where’d Georgie go?” Sam asked, looking around but saw not hide nor tail of the other male. He was still out of breath and his heart was pounding in his ears. Lucille looked to be in much the same condition.

“I don’t know, but I do know that he’ll catch up and that this is the price he gets to pay for eating all those damn twinkies.” Lucille never once looked away from the doors, even as she heard Georgie calling their names.

“Over here!” Sam called out, listening carefully for Georgie’s footsteps to be coming in the right direction.

“This one?”

“What about Georgie? Shouldn’t we wait?” 

“He’ll get here by the time we actually pick which way we want to go.”

Sam considered her words for a second, ready to fight them. She usually just chose whatever and left the other two to wonder where she went and hope they were going in the right direction. “Yeah, alright.” He didn’t want to pick a fight because she always won those too, whether or not she was actually right.

“Fantastic. This one.” Lucille pointed at a random door and opened it, walking inside with her light pointed in front of her. Sam could see it wave the moment she got past the doorframe. He looked behind him for his other friend, comforted by the sound of Georgie’s familiarly heavy footsteps and loud breathing coming toward their position.

“Sam! Let’s go!” the girl called from inside the room. He couldn’t see the light from her flashlight anymore.

Sam took another glance behind him before following her steps. Turns out she wasn’t very far into the room. It actually looked to be much the same as the original room they just came from, but the items on the shelves were all unwrapped and sitting by themselves. The seemed to be all parts of machinery, but Sam could pick out a few tools on the wire racks.

Lucille picked up something and headed toward Sam, not looking at him directly, but at the thing that was covered in dust and germs. From here it looked like a bottle of soda. “Look at all this c-”

“SAM!” 

Dean’s voice made Sam’s ears ring and cry out in horror. Never let it be said that anything was scarier to Sam than Dean and what Dean could do. The angry blonde had come through the doorway to the secondary storage room and rounded the corner of the aisle they were in, practically materialized directly behind Sam and Lucille. Georgie was held tight in his hand, shaking with dark eyes wide.

Sam started, immediately trying to explain himself. “Dean! I-”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam. Get your ass up those stairs now and wait at the entrance.”

“Dean-”

“Now!” his brother barked. Sam turned tail and sprinted through the storage rooms, up the stairs, quickly navigating where he had come from. He left the building but didn’t leave the front steps leading to the entrance. He waited anxiously as seconds passed and Dean and his friends didn’t come up.

He looked through the doors before scaring himself into staring at the ground at his feet. How did Dean find them? Sam checked his watch; the alarm didn’t go off for another forty-two minutes. Why was Dean even awake? He shuffled in his spot, trying to fan out his shirt to alleviate that oppressive sticky sweat that accumulated since the arrival of Dean.

The door was kicked open with enough force to break the hinge and make the door stick open. Georgie was shoved out of the door first, one of Dean’s hands clenched around the back of his neck. Next came Dean himself, and Lucille came around the rear in the same position as Georgie. They looked thoroughly chastised, shame and regret painting both their faces. Dean’s anger hadn’t faded one bit, even as he let go of the kids and shoved them forward lightly.

“Get in the car.”

The order was followed and the three kids piled into the backseat together, unwilling to sit next to the raging Winchester and serve as a reminder of what they did. Dean sat in the driver’s seat of the Impala and started the car. 

Lucille gripped Sam’s hand while Georgie leaned into him. They didn’t dare speak, but their looks they shared were enough to compensate.

Dean drove in silence to Georgie’s house. 

“Get out.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy muttered, trying to climb out of the car. Dean stayed just long enough to watch Georgie be intercepted on the front porch by his parents and for his mom to walk towards the car. She motioned for him to roll down the window.

“Mrs Green,” he greeted once she got to the car. Sam and Lucille pressed together and made themselves as small as possible. They didn’t want to get Georgie’s mom mad at them as well as Dean.

“Mr Winchester, thank you so much for bringing him home. I hope everything went okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything went okay. I’m just gonna get them home. Miss Hantz’ parents are waiting for her.”

Mrs Green nodded at the teen and glanced back at the two kids in the backseat. She nodded a little more vigorously before taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Dean rolled the window back up and sat there for another moment, glaring shortly at the two through the mirror. Lucille made the mistake of allowing her eyes to catch Dean’s, no matter how accidental or how brief the action was. She looked down immediately at her hands twisting in her lap.

She didn’t understand what was going on exactly. She had never had someone like Dean in her life who could just instill fear and regret and shame with a single action. He hadn’t even said anything to the two of them beyond asking if they were alright. Yet, she was still ashamed of everything she’s done wrong this night and everything similar. It was weird and she had felt oh-so-tiny when he looked at her. This, however, was not enough for her not to note just how hot the older teen was. She never got to see earlier because of her failed ninja skills and now that she did, a small part of her almost doesn’t regret her actions. On the other hand, it was enough for her to forget the whole knife-under-the-pillow thing that scared her shitless in the same event as her ninja skills, or lack thereof.

An elbow dug into her side and she looked up. Sam was looking down at her intently and jerked his head toward the window. She followed and saw her house; her two parents were storming angrily down the concrete sidewalk splitting their lawn in half. Strangely, she wasn’t all that afraid. She squeezed Sam’s hand in her own and scooched away from him, closer to the door. 

Sam watched her immediately get tucked underneath her mother’s arm and into the older woman’s side. Her father watched them turn toward the house for a moment before turning to the car. He, much like Mrs Green, gestured for Dean to roll down the window.

Mr Hantz leaned down close to Dean, leaning his forehead against the arm resting above the window’s frame. Dean leaned toward him and they whispered furiously to each other. Sam strained to hear and caught only a few words. From those few words, he guessed that they were talking about Sam and Lucille and their recent behavior. They said something about school and studying.

Mr Hantz placed a hand on Dean’s arm- he’d placed it on the edge of the window frame so he could lean out a bit more comfortably- and constricted his hand just once before nodding, leaning back and walking back toward the house.

Dean rolled the window back up and pulled away from the curb. He didn’t say anything and Sam didn’t really expect him to. 

He just needed to know what Dean was thinking. He’d never really gotten in trouble like this before. This was, actually, one of the first times he’d actually done something to disobey Dean and the rules he set into place when John was gone. He’d always followed those rules because there weren’t all that many to begin with, and they weren’t all that hard to follow. He was actually happy to oblige with all of the rules up until this point because he didn’t really have an urge to go against it. Dean had once said that he really only put the rules in place to show Sammy where his boundaries were so he could expand a bit, but not too much.

Sam’s mouth opened and shut a few times, trying to decide what words to form. He finally settled on “Dean?”

“Not now, Sam.”

That hurt a lot more than it should’ve. Dean always calls him “Sammy”, even when he told him that that wasn’t his name. Sam fell silent and left Dean alone. The car ride’s silence was awkward and oppressive on Sam’s part and welcoming on Dean’s. 

They parked in front of the motel in the same spot the Impala was parked when Sam left early that morning. Sam got out of the car and gently shut the door, not knowing what his older brother would do if he even had the potential of harming Baby. Dean apparently didn’t care because he was already unlocking the door to their room. The door was flung open and Dean stood at the side of the entrance, arms crossed and head tilted upward. He was looking down his nose at Sam and that meant nothing good. If anything, it meant he was holding a grudge.

Sam kept his head lowered as he slunk slowly toward his brother. Dean never took his eyes off of Sam, even as the younger Winchester darted past him and into the motel room.

Dean shut and locked the door behind him. Sam curled up on the bed and hugged his knees to his chest. Dean sat heavily at the mini table the room had and sighed. He scrubbed at his face before resting his head in his hands.

“You’re not going to school today. Dad’s coming home tomorrow. You will be telling him what you did.” Dean’s voice was muffled from his hands. 

“Dean-”

“Don’t!” Dean barked. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Just...don’t.” The elder Winchester dropped his hands, sounding tired and looking it, too. He still refused to look at the other. Sam sat still on his bed, unwilling to move or speak.

“Do not. Leave. This room. Understand?”

Sam only nodded his head. Dean glanced sharply at the younger teen. 

“I understand,” Sam replied quickly.

“...Okay. Catch up on the sleep you missed.” With that, Dean stood and left the room, making a point to lock the door behind him and take the two sets of keys with him. Sam knew that Dean wasn’t going to be back for a few hours. He never was gone for longer. A few moments later he heard the sound of the Impala starting and driving away. 

Sam unfurled and spread out on top of the bed, flopping a bit. He breathed in the scent of stale laundry detergent and harsh cleansers, likely bleach. Then he let out a sigh and snuggled into the scratchy comforter that still held its warmth.

He dreaded John coming back. He knew Dean did, too. John never dealt with misbehavior well, especially from Dean. His older brother had almost always taken the fall for him by twisting the situation and saying it was his fault for not maintaining control over him. John believed that, for the most part. It didn’t really make sense, but Sam couldn’t really do anything about it without hurting Dean further by proving that he was right. He didn’t like getting Dean in trouble my misbehaving.

Sam was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone ringing. He rolled over and picked it up, checking the caller. Lucille. His fatigue hit him and he let the phone ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! We made it here! Questions, comments, and concerns are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faaaantastic! Chapter numero dos! I know, I know, it takes sooooo long for an update. But it's here now and that's all that really matters, right?

When Sam woke up, he was almost immediately lulled back to sleep. The blanket underneath him was warm and bearable. The cars outside made a dull roar not dissimilar to white noise. His limbs felt loose and relaxed.

“Get your ass up, now,” Dean snapped from somewhere else in the room. He was shuffling around, trying to do something as quickly as possible.

Sam opened his eyes only to be met with the glare of the sun on the wall. Sam groaned as he rolled out of bed and flipped over and sat up, his legs hitting the floor. He noticed distantly that he was still wearing his coat and shoes. When he stretched he heard at least three pops in his back and one in his shoulder. He could also feel his skin itching as the pressed-in wrinkles from his clothes tried to come back to normal. He flopped onto to his back for a moment with a heavy sigh before sitting back up.

Sam swiveled his head slowly until he saw Dean. The older teen had his back to Sam as he took apart and cleaned guns at the tiny table, his bag packed completely next to him on the floor. Sam wondered distantly when he’d done this. 

He looked away, back at the wall in front of him, when Dean paused to massage his temples and had tilted his head back. Sam let his neck go limp and his head lolled loosely as he tipped backward. “What did you need me to do?”

“To get your ass up and pack. Just in case. I have a bad feeling about what Dad’s gonna say when you tell him what you did.”

Right. Sam forgot about that completely. Dread filled Sam’s gut and he felt weighed down by the emotion. He knew it was an impossibility but he also knew that it didn’t have to be a physical thing to feel real.

Sam’s fear wasn’t unjust or unwarranted. One time Dean had disobeyed a rule similarly when he was a little bit younger than Sam was now. He’d done something, leaving the room while Sammy was asleep. He’d come back in the morning, shortly before the sun came up. He was beaten black and blue, his lip and forehead bleeding. John came back a few days later and panicked. He’d freaked out on Dean as soon as he shut Sam in the bathroom. The boy was only eight at the time and had cried when he heard his brother screaming at his brother. They’d packed up and left within twenty minutes of Sammy being let out, even though it was about one in the morning. Dean’s bruises and cuts were darker and ripped open, respectively.

He didn’t want to get in trouble with his father. He knew that Dean would likely push Sam to tell their father and then guilt trip himself into taking Sam’s punishment for him. Sam didn’t want that, either.

“Get your shit together by the time I get back, or I’m throwing it away.” Sam could practically hear Dean’s temper heating up, so he looked back at his brother, seeing that he’d already stood up and put everything away. Dean was reaching for the leather coat he always wore and the car keys he always stashed in the pocket.

Sam dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed his face a few times. It was a bad habit he picked up off of Dean when they needed to take a step back and a deep breath. It never worked. Perhaps it was a poor attempt to relieve that tight feeling in their skin that came with stress. 

“Sam! Now!” Dean barked. He flung the door open and left, slamming the slab of fake wood behind him with a bang. 

“Wait! Dean!” Sam called out uselessly. He scrambled to get into Dean’s hearing range before his older brother left. When he finally got to the door and opened it, he was delayed by the setting sun. He stumbled back a bit, blinded by the orange light. He yelled his brother’s name before his vision recovered.

“What?”

Dean’s harsh voice startled Sam briefly before he powered through, “What did you do with my phone?” That wasn’t what he meant to say. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but that sure wasn’t it. Too late to fix it, now.

“It’s in my pocket. If you’re not done by the time I get back, I’m burning your shit. Go, now.” Sam saw Dean’s blurry outline slide into the equally sun-fuzzy shape of the Impala. The car started and a few seconds later the car drove off, engine rumbling loudly down the two-lane road.

Sam sat in the doorway, the door partially open and his upper torso stuck through to hide his boxers from any person that could be walking by. He sighed and leaned back in the motel room. Once the door was shut and latched, he burst into action. He grabbed his own duffel bag to find that most of the contents were there, but the rest was likely in the bathroom.

He grabbed a pair of jeans and what he hoped to be a clean t-shirt. He did a quick sniff check to find that it indeed was not and grabbed a new shirt that did pass the sniff test. After a quick change in the middle of the room was rushed by the realization that he never closed the blinds, he threw his clothes in with the shirt that failed the only test it will ever have to take.

“What...all...do I...have...to do?” Sam said slowly, trying to gather everything on his mental checklist. It wasn’t very long.

Necessities  
Clothes

 

There wasn’t a number three. Obviously, that meant he had one of two options; he either screwed up and missed something major or his list of possessions was kinda sad. He had a gross sinking feeling that it was a bit of both. 

Wait. He couldn’t think of anything that he could’ve missed. That meant that his list of possessions was sad. 

He let out a groan in the silent room.

Better get packing his meager belongings, starting with his socks hiding in every nook and cranny and his toothbrush on the counter next to his comb. 

\-----

From the second Dean drove off, away from the motel, away from his brother, away from his problems...it felt like a weight had been pulled off of his shoulders and that lead ball in his stomach was morphing into something a whole lot less heavy but no less painful. 

He was tired. He hurt. He was done with this little phase his body was in. He was past puberty and was nearly done growing and his intestines were most definitely not experiencing growing pains.

Fuck.

He was done with this day the second he woke up at ass-o’clock in the morning and discovered that the bed next to his was empty when it should not have been. Sam had been known to crawl into bed next to his big brother when he had the random night terror and try to cuddle, no matter the age. Even with that in mind Sam was, in fact, in neither bed. Which had been alarming.

Dean woke up just enough to keep his mind focused just enough to try to see if Sam had gotten up to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water or take a shower because he was awake before the alarm and wanted to be productive. Sam was also known to do that and it was a pretty awful habit in Dean’s opinion, not that Sam had ever asked for that.

There wasn’t the sound of Sam chugging down his glass of water, no running tap, no running water for the shower. A slow crack of one eye-opening revealed that the bathroom light was off and the door open and Sam most definitely was not peeing blind.

He closed his eye but was suddenly more wide awake and pumping with adrenaline than he’d been in a few days.

There were no sounds whatsoever in the room for a solid few seconds and that meant one thing: Sam wasn’t there. That had been a terrible realization and it made Dean’s stomach drop through him and plow a hole through the motel’s lumpy mattress and stained carpeting. 

His brain decided to snap out the not-so-distant memories and reflection in an awful way. Dean curled his lip and pressed a cool palm to his temple to try and sooth the sudden stab of pain that faded slower than it came.

He didn’t realise he closed his eyes until he opened them again. Another, fresher wave of panic flitted through him as he registered that he had crossed the median by no little distance. He didn’t really care that the road was empty and he had no cars to hit even if he drove on the wrong side of the road. 

A headache was pushed to the backburner when he started to refocus on the task at hand. 

He swallowed and kept the car in the correct lane, centered carefully. No matter how much he tried to tailor his thoughts to his driving skills, he couldn’t help but to drift right back off to the horrendously inconsiderate and dangerous decisions of his dumbass brother with a brain so big that the only thing that Dean could possibly think of for why Sam even agreed with such an idea in the first place was that too-big brain has short-circuited.

He was incredibly lucky that Mr Hantz had made sure he and Dean had each other’s and the Green household’s number once it was established that Sam had joined the two long-time friends and made it a trio of doom. He was also fortunate that Mr Hantz was knowledgeable of his daughter’s personality and likings more than what she probably thinks he knows or would like him to know.

The man had given Dean three options and they were all so similar that Dean was in for a loss. At he had narrowed it down to just two of three options, which was not that big of an accomplishment, but it had cut out one place that Dean needed to drive to and that was better than nothing.

Dean had the choice between the old factory and the mine system that had been out of use for like...three or so decades. It didn’t matter. Dean had gone to the mines first but had left after a few minutes by realizing that the dirt had no footprints in the soft dirt and dust.

Racing back to the car, he drove off to the other place, about twenty minutes away. He’d lost about thirty minutes if he’d just picked the right place to check. That’s when the thoughts that shouldn’t have even been thought popped up and his headache had started. What if Mr Hantz was wrong? What if it was a different place? What if he can’t find them? What if they never made it to the place they were supposed to be at?

Dean was just real fucking lucky that he was still a teenager and knew what would be most appealing to one that was particularly curious and reckless. He hadn’t meant to scare the shit out of the Green kid, but it had worked out for the best when the boy had been cooperative with Dean’s distinctive angry-parent-like actions.

The elder Winchester brother was regretting a bit how...hostile he had been with Sam’s friends, but they needed it, otherwise they were going to fight him on it by saying “you’re not our parents!” in some high-pitched, whiny voice and would proceed to fight him by kicking and screaming when he dragged them out. Well, he shouldn’t say that. The Hantz girl would’ve. The Green kid was just as terrified as Sam was and likely would’ve been even if Dean had been stern rather than harsh.

Dean shook it off, deciding that it was necessary and it prevented anything from happening that would have hindered the operation.

Baby needed gas and this headache was slowly pulsing into a migraine, Dean realized with a grimace. He looked down at his watch and his grimace deepened. He’d been gone for nearly two hours already and the next gas station was thirty minutes away in either direction.

Dean sighed and turned around, opting to be back at the motel sooner just in case his dad arrived early, no matter how unlikely that is.

Upon arriving at the gas station, he quickly filled Baby and was readying to leave when he remembered that the ibuprofen supply was running low and if his headaches continued, they’d run out in no time and he’d have to sit there and suffer without the edge of pain being softened by painkillers. He parked in the empty parking lot, ignoring his less than stellar parking job, and entered the station’s store. He gave a quick greeting smile at the tiny man behind the counter that must’ve been at least eighty before sifting through the aisles so he could get what he needed and get the hell out as quickly as possible.

His phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out distractedly, still looking for the right medication. He answered only to have the phone keep ringing. He looked at what was in his hand; it was Sam’s phone which hadn’t rung since the Green kid had called about an hour before Sam woke up. He placed it back in his pocket as he pulled out his own phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean,” his father greeted on the other side of the connection.

“Sir,” Dean responded, taking a moment from his search to pay attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m letting you know I’m going to be back a bit later than what I said I was but only by an hour or two. I want you guys to be packed and ready to leave by midnight, we’re leaving at one a.m. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean affirmed, resuming his task once it was determined that his dad wasn’t bleeding out all over the side of a road or in the middle of a forest somewhere. 

“What are you doing? What’s Sam doing?”

Oh, shit. Let’s hope he doesn’t fuck this one up by telling the truth. “I’m at a gas station. I had to fill up the car and restock a few supplies so we don’t wait until it’s too late.”

“You left Sam?”

Fuck. He stopped looking for the painkillers once more to stop and tilt his head down, rubbing his face and settling on the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. Alright, Winchester, stay cool, he told himself mentally. “He’s packing the bags already.”

“Why? I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Shitfuck. His mind spun as he searched for an answer that wouldn’t piss his father off or be considered lying by omission when Sam would tell their dad later. He wasn’t prepared for this call. His head drew a blank and came up with a pulse of pain instead. “Sam screwed up. He broke a rule.”

There was nothing on the other side. Dean waited a few more seconds. Nothing came.

“Sir?”

“I’ll be there in four hours. You two will be punished by the time we leave.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean muttered dejectedly before the line went dead.”

He kept the device at his ear for a few seconds, breathing deeply with his eyes shut. One characteristic of his normal train of thought popped up, one that was extremely unwelcome. ‘Well, now I don’t have time for a bar.’

He pocketed his phone and found the usual brand of ibuprofen they usually got and grabbed three instead of the normal two. 

He didn’t really want or need to go to a bar, but it was one of those comfort things for him that usually had him relaxed more than before whether he had the biggest stick up his ass he’d had in awhile, or he just swallowed a good chunk of a bottle’s contents.

He came up to the checkout counter and placed the bottles on the surface. He looked behind the counter at the back wall. It was stocked with cigarettes of all brands and a few brands of lighters.

“You alright, boy?” the old man asked, ringing up Dean’s purchase. 

Dean looked at the older man in front of him. His head was so shiny dean could almost see a warped reflection of himself on it. “As much as I can be, sir,” Dean replied, knowing that something on his face showed. The old man squinted up at him, catching Dean’s indirect answer. He stared for a solid second or two while he finished checking the purchase out. He called out the price and Dean pulled out his wallet, handing the man enough to cover.

He slipped a candy bar in the bag with the bottles after Dean paid. The teen opened his mouth to protest.

“You gonna need it.”

Dean shut his wavering jaw and settled for a smile. “Thank you.” Dean placed another bill on the counter as a bit of a tip to the old man and to cover the cost of the candy bar. He had the money; he had a particularly good night at the bar when it came to pool a few days ago. 

Dean was almost to the door when he was stopped.

“You gonna need this, too!” the old man shouted after him and Dean turned just quickly enough to catch the pack of cigarettes he’d been eyeing and a second candy bar against his chest.

“Thanks a lot, sir! This means-”

“Bah! Get back to your Sam before your father finds you not there,” the old man dismissed, waving a hand at him to cut him off.

Dean booked it out of there and settled in the front seat of the Impala. He grabbed out the cigarettes and the medication bottle he’d gotten for himself. He broke the seal and popped in two pills and swallowed dry. He looked at the pack of cancer sticks and his better judgement eventually caved once he was faced with the thought of the upcoming punishment. He stuck one in his mouth and lit it, rolling down the window to his left and cracked all three others.

One deep inhale that instantly started to work on his nerves and he knew. By the time he got back to the motel he knew he’d regret this one little indulgence he let himself have.

\-----

Sam was bored. He was missing a single sock and had already spent nearly two hours looking for the thing before he gave up. He had looked in every nook and cranny in the room, not that there were many. The sock was just gone.

Dean would find it when he got back. His big brother was maternal just enough to achieve mother henning and innate ability to find anything within a single day no matter what. 

He let out a half laugh as his train of thought strayed to the ironic territory.

Sam was totally one of those objects. Dean seemed to always know where Sam was constantly no matter how long Sam had been gone, no matter where they were, no matter anything.

Now here he was, needing that same skill that got him in trouble last...this morning. Sam groaned and collapsed in the same chair that Dean had been sitting in earlier that mor- evening. He winced as his forehead collided against the worn wood with a heavy thunk. John was on his way. Dean was gone. Both were mad at him.

Should he go after Dean? It was getting late and it was a little worrying. Dean was a creature of habit.

Sam lifted his head but kept it supported on a hand. He glanced at the clock. The sun was setting and the device read 07:06, and that meant that Dean had likely found a bar to find a chick at and wouldn’t be home until the wee hours of the morning, which was a bad idea if John was on his way back to the motel he’d dumped them at a few months ago. John’d be even more mad if he’d found both kids gone, rather than just Dean. He could trust Dean to take care of himself, unlike Sam, who wasn’t even trusted to be even partially unsupervised during a hunt.

The impala’s engine could be heard a bit down the road and Sam leaped to his feet, only to stand there a bit awkwardly and look at his shuffling feet. He knew that Dean wouldn’t welcome Sam leaping into his arms the second that he came through the door like some lovesick wife greeting her war husband that just came back from overseas like in one of those ridiculously sappy romances that are occasionally the only thing on TV. Not that Sam would know; he doesn’t watch that kind of thing, obviously.

He also didn’t really want to hide from his brother, either. Or ignore him. Those would both get Dean agitated and pissy because that’s how Dean got when he did that and he was in trouble.

The key unlocking the fake-wood door jerked Sam out of his thoughts. The door was pushed open and Dean stepped through, looking small and tired. The leather jacket looked too big and there were a lot of shadows on his face that weren’t normally there.

“Dean?”

“Are you packed?” his brother said, ignoring the utterance of his name. Sam winced when he heard how rough Dean’s voice was. His throat sounded dry and it must’ve been scratchy.

“Yeah...Dean?”

“What?” His voice was sharp and it let Sam know just a bit more into how Dean was, both mentally and emotionally. 

“Are you...okay?”

“Dad’s gonna be home in a few hours.”

Sam noticed the lack of answer and Dean had already shuffled to the side of the motel room, pulling up both his bag and the one full of weaponry onto the rickety table with one leg shorter than the others.

“What time?”

“We’re ready at midnight and leaving at one at the latest.” 

Sam scoffed quietly, shaking his head and refusing to look at the eighteen-year-old. He sat on the single loveseat in front of the old TV set, pulling his knees up to his chest.  
Dean’s answers were being clipped short and it hurt a lot that Dean was really going to just let them move once more. He thought that his older brother was happier here than he’d been in the last few moves. Dean, at the very least, knew how happy Sam had been at this place. Lucille and Georgie were the first close friends that Sam had had in over four moves. Neither were all that well-known for their ability to make friends, so for one of them to actually have two? That was such an amazing occurrence that this was actually the first time it had happened since Sam was ten.

“Sorry, Sammy. I’ve just been a bit stressed lately and I know you didn’t mean to get in trouble b-” Dean cut himself off with a sigh. Sam heard him sit on the edge of one of the beds, the springs protesting loudly. “I know you liked this place and I know that you have actual friends here. I don’t want to make you lea-

Sam couldn’t handle this.

“I’m sorry, Dean!” 

He rushed the elder brother and wrapped his arms around Dean’s chest and tried to cuddle into it. It was a self-comfort method that Sam rarely uses and was mostly utilised when Sam was first trying to learn how to hunt. It never went well those first few attempts and Sam would feel so bad that he’d need to cuddle Dean to feel a little bit more soothed. 

However, Sam grew out of it already and it was more of a method for making Dean turn into a big pile of sympathetic goo. The greatest thing was that it still worked and Sam would bet that it would continue to do so until Dean’s dying day.

Dean’s form had sagged as he wrapped his arms around Sam, resting his chin on the too-long hair. He let out a deep breath and pulled his baby brother even closer. He relaxed, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth weakly. Sam thought that Dean didn’t know that these hugs were his way of getting out of trouble with Dean. He did know, it was no secret. He would let Sam get away with it, though. If he didn’t, how else was Dean going to get these hugs? They were already a lot less common than they used to be.

Dean felt Sam snuggle into his chest and came back to the moment. 

“You packed, right?”

He felt Sam huff out a laugh. “Yeah.”

“Dad’s gonna be here in a few hours. I suggest putting your shoes and jacket on and making the bed and everything...okay?”

Dean’s throat and chin felt weird against Sam’s forehead and scalp. Sam nodded against Dean. They sat in silence for a bit.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice muffled and face burning as he remembered something. Dean was going to laugh at him.

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“I can’t find my sock.” 

Dean’s chest jerked once in a suppressed laugh. “Just one sock?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let me up,” Dean laughed, pulling back from his brother. Sam unwrapped himself from Dean and pulled himself onto the bed, face planting. He closed his eyes, hearing Dean get up and start moving around.

“How long were you looking for this singular sock?”

“A few hours.”

“You didn’t look very hard.”

Sam snapped his head up and pushed his body up with his arms. “What?!” Dean was sitting in front of him, looking triumphant and a bit condescending. Sure enough, there was a single sock dangling from his fingers. 

“It was behind the TV.”

“Why is that the first place you look?” Sam asked, face screwed into a confused expression that made Dean mock him by making the same face. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

Dean let his face relax into something easy, smiling as he threw the sock at Sammy’s face. The younger boy made a face as the dirty sock touched his nose and mouth.

“Alright, let’s just...I don’t know, nap? Yeah, let’s just nap until Dad gets here. I don’t really want to talk about what’s gonna happen, alright?”

Sam nodded, picking the sock up and moving to throw it into his bag and therefore having a completely packed bag. He looked back at Dean to see what he was doing, and the older teen was flicking around the room, trying to find anything that Sam had missed. He found two more socks that didn’t match and one of Sam’s school notebooks.

“Dean, how do you find these things?” Sam asked, grabbing the items from Dean’s outstretched hand and packing them in their respective bags.

“Doesn’t matter. Lay your ass down.” Dean started digging around in his own bag and adding some of the plastic bag’s contents in there. Sam saw two containers slip in, a small box go into the leather jacket’s pockets, and Dean froze for a fraction of a second as he let the final container stay out as he set it down on the table.

“You coming, Dean?” Sam asked, interrupting whatever stream of thoughts was flowing through Dean’s mind.

The older teen looked up at met Sam’s eyes briefly before looking back down at the bottle. Looked like painkillers to Sam. Was Dean’s headache still bothering him?

“Yeah...yeah,” Dean muttered, breathlessly. He’d looked back at the white and blue bottle. Sam waited a few seconds, but Dean hadn’t moved.

Sam got up, walking over to where his brother stood. He hesitated, his hand waving jerkily back and forth before settling gingerly on Dean’s shoulder. “You alright? Headache still bothering you?”

“I...I guess it-I guess the painkillers haven’t kicked in,” Dean stuttered, finally paying just enough attention to slide the bottle into his bag along with the other two. Sam pulled on Dean, leading him toward the bed before pushing him down. 

Dean rolled to the other side and talked into the pillow.

“What?”

“Set. The alarm.”

“What time?”

“Fifteen minutes before whenever I said Dad would get here,” Dean growled out, lifting his head fully clear from the pillow instead of just talking louder like he had the second time.

Sam said nothing more but did what he was told. He reset the alarm and turned off the light. He looked back at his brother, noticing that he was already passed out and was snoring lightly. Sam had to smile a bit. Dean never believed him when he was told that he snored. 

Dean snuffled into the pillow and his snoring ceased when Sam got on top of the bed with him. The springs had squeaked loudly but it didn’t deter Sam; he only crushed himself into Dean’s side, settling into a light sleep as he awaited the impending alarm with his brother right by his side. 

Sam just hoped that Dean’s headache would be gone by the time he woke up. And John came. Sam winced at the thought.

John was mad at them. He’s making them move. He doesn’t want to move. He likes the school he’s at. He likes the people there. He has actual friends here. He never got to say goodbye to Lucille and Georgie. He was going to miss them.

Somewhere along the line, Sam fell asleep, lulled by Dean’s body heat and the white noise of the outside world.

That sleep was cut short. John had double-timed his trip and had arrived an hour earlier than what he told his kids he’d arrive at. He was there, slamming the door open with a bang and sending the ugly motel pictures shaking on the thin walls.

Dean jerked awake immediately and pulled out a knife from...somewhere. His eyes were blurred with sleep and mind spinning, trying to compensate for the slow senses. Sam squawked as Dean shoved him off the edge of the bed. He was hidden from John’s sight and that’s all that really mattered to Dean’s sleep-addled brain.

“Dean! What the hell is wrong with you?” John snapped at his oldest.

The older boy’s eyes widened with recognition and fear filled them. He wasn’t ready for this confrontation.

Sam sat up and was rubbing his face tiredly. “Dean? What was that for?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Dean only called one person “sir”, and it definitely wasn’t “Sammy”. He was suddenly a lot more awake than he was even a second earlier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Anyway, I kinda lost interest for a bit and had run into a problem that I’m having issues with.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, boy! Answer me: what the hell is wrong with you?” John snapped, taking a step toward Dean. 

The boy stepped away, backing up a few feet. “I-I don’t-I don’t kn-I don’t know,” Dean stuttered. John had been looking around for Sam, but now was staring into Dean’s face with an expressionless face. “Sir,” Dean tacked on quickly, taking another step back. 

John snapped forward, fist getting an iron grip on Dean’s collar. He yanked the boy to him and got his face not even inches away. “You let him get out! There’s obviously something wrong with you, boy!” John’s hold on Dean didn’t let the latter flinch back or avoid the spittle that littered his face.

Sam watched the exchange with too-wide eyes. He’d never seen anything like this. He’d known that it was there for years but he’d always been hidden from it. It was kept between locked doors and revealed by Dean’s skin the next time Sam saw him. This moment was downright terrifying because there must have been a reason that John had always hidden this from Sam, had always only gone for Dean in the solitudes of empty rooms guarded by locked doors and the thick blanket of sleep or aloneness. Dean had done the same, always ushering Sam to bed or to go out to the local library or outside to play, to do something when either of them had done something wrong. He wondered in some distant part of his mind why he was seeing this now, neither his brother nor his father doing their self-assigned parts to shield themselves away from his view.

Whatever Sam had been expecting, it didn’t happen. John threw Dean backward and the teen collided his head painfully with the wall. The dull smack was wince-worthy.

“We’re not doing this now. I’m going to take a break. We leave in forty minutes.” John turned and collapsed on one of the beds. 

Dean rushed over to Sam’s side, checking him over frantically even though nothing had happened and he wasn’t even touched by their dad. If anything, it should be Sam that was worrying over Dean.

“Dean-”

“Shut the fuck up!” John growled from where he lay.

Sam and Dean froze until the man settled back down. Then Dean quickly and silently pulled Sam in front of his body and steered the boy out the front door, heading a little bit away with the door cracked open just a bit so it wouldn’t clack. Sam shot away from the door and to Dean’s car. He pressed against the cool metal and waited for his brother.

Dean was at his side in seconds. “Are you okay? Sam?” Dead fretted, turning Sam so he could check his brother over completely.

Sam grabbed Dean’s hands to still him. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?” His older brother looked worried and distracted still. He seemed to be paying enough attention that he’d actually hear whatever Sam said.

“What happens now?”

“Um, I...I guess we pack up the car and we should just hide out here so we don’t accidentally wake Dad up,” Dean said, looking unsure of himself. The ache from where his scalp hit the motel wall prickled back to life. Dean knew that’s not what he had meant and by the looks of it Sam knew that, too. He let out a sigh and looked away. He couldn’t bear to make eye contact with his kid brother when saying something like this. “He...you know how it usually happens. He’s gonna try to hide you from it or wait until you’re asleep or something. He might not if he decides that he’s just gonna send me on a hunt, so don’t worry about it, okay? It could be nothing,” Dean promised. 

He didn’t lie to Sam, exactly. Their father had been known to send Dean out on his own these last few years to go off on his own hunt. That had been mostly a ways of getting a monster to hurt Dean instead of John doing it. He always deliberately led Dean into a hunt unprepared or short of something that he needed. He didn’t usually pick up his phone when Dean needed help or confiscated Dean’s own, saying that he needed to do it for himself, otherwise he’d never be a real hunter. The thing that always got Dean to nod and follow along mindlessly was one of the only weak spots that Dean had. ‘How can you protect Sam if you can’t even protect yourself?’

That was one lesson that Dean knew that he had learned with John’s unknowing help. He’d been protecting Sam from their father’s abuse for years by shielding himself emotionally and mentally. He hadn’t done too well, but he did a good enough job that he was here, having this conversation with Sam, rather than having fucked off to some state down south and living a new lie.

“Are you sure?”

Dean looked back at Sam. He could tell his brother needed the reassurance. “It’s definitely a possibility, but there’s no way for me to be sure of anything until it happens, okay?”

Sam took a deep breath, eyes flicking over Dean’s face for something before he nodded. “Okay, Dean.”

Dean smiled, ignoring the way his eyes throbbed in favor of distracting Sam with other activities. “How well do you know the stars?”

Sam’s eyes filled with hope and he forgot about the impending beating his brother was going to get. “Not very, well. I can only pick out Orion and the North Star and one of the Dippers. I don’t know which one it is, though.”

“Cool. Come on, let’s go load the car and then I can teach you more about the stars until it’s time to go.”

“I can get them!” Sam declared, determined to keep his big brother away from their dad. Sam bounced off to the motel room, Dean following at a much more sluggish pace. The youngest Winchester cracked the door open just enough to stick his head in. He darted in, emerging a few seconds later with both his own bag and Dean’s. He handed one of the duffels to his brother. “He’s still asleep. He didn’t even twitch when I came in!” Sam smirked, proud of his ability to keep quiet. It wasn’t up to the level that John or Dean was on, but he was getting there. 

Dean hoped that Sam wasn’t going to need any of those skills that a normal hunter would. He knew that Sam wanted to be a lawyer, wanted to be normal. Speaking of which…

“Hey, Sammy, why don’t I put these in the car and you go call your friends to say goodbye or something,” Dean offered, clearly trying to make up for the way he had scared the shit out of all three of them the night prior.

Sam looked hesitant. “What if they don’t want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I’d tell you we could go to their homes so you can say goodbye, but we don’t have enough time for that. You’d be better off calling them.” Dean fished Sam’s phone out of his pocket and held it out. 

Sam took it gingerly. He didn’t really want to talk to his friends, knowing that yet another farewell wouldn’t hurt that much, but this particular one would make him feel like his heart was being stabbed. That wasn’t the manliest nor most coherent thing that he’s ever said to convey emotional main, but he decided that he’d just never repeat it out loud in front of Dean. Especially in front of Dean. He’d never hear the end of it. Whatever. If Dean asked, he’d say that he didn’t want to get them to get in trouble for being up super early in the morning, talking to someone that had essentially gotten them in trouble just the day before.

Sam turned to manipulate Dean into convincing him not to call only to find out that his brother had already backed away from their spot in the middle of the parking lot and was all the way by the car, tucked back in the back. Well, that wasn’t going to work.

Sam pulled up Georgie’s number first. He hit the call button before he talked himself out of this. The phone rang. Each buzz left Sam feeling just a bit more nervous and tense.

“What?” a tired voice snapped. Sam smiled a little at the familiarity. Georgie was notorious for being awful when he woke up prematurely. He’d only known this secondhand. He’d heard stories of Georgie being woken up in class from other students and Lucille told him about the times she called Georgie early in the morning or late at night for various activities.

“Hey, Georgie.”

“Sam!” 

Sam laughed softly. “Hey, Georgie. You sleep well?”

“Well, I was until someone woke me up at this ungodly hour. I take it your brother’s grounded you ‘cause you’re calling at...too early in the morning?”

“No, no. I’m not grounded. I’m calling because he recommended it actually.”

“What kind of brother-”

Sam cut him off, “I know. It’s a bit weird. But I need did call you for a reason.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

There was a bit of radio silence on Georgie’s end. When he responded, his voice was brittle. “When you coming back?”

“I’m probably not, Georgie. I’d...I’m just saying goodbye.”

“Why do you have to leave? Can’t you stay here? If it’s about where you’re gonna live, we have extra rooms and my mom loves you and-”

“That’s not it, Georgie. I have to follow my dad and I don’t want to leave my brother alone to deal with him. I just wanted to say goodbye. It’s already hard enough to say it as it is, Georgie, I don’t want this to get too touchy-feely.”

“You Winchesters and your emotions,” Georgie laughed wetly. Sam had told him stories about his emotionless brother and his quest for complete manliness. Sam glanced over at his brother. He couldn’t see him save for the slow, exhaled puff of cold air illuminated by the moon.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “Hey, Georgie?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“I think I’m gonna miss you.”

“Well, I definitely know that I’m gonna miss you,” Georgie sniffed. He was crying now for sure and it made a hot flash of anger and rebelliousness rush through Sam. He wanted to stay with his friends and one of the only places where he felt he truly belonged.

“Bye, Georgie. Take care of Lucille, ‘kay?” He knew that the girl would likely end up taking care of Georgie, but he liked to think that she’d also turn to their friend if she ever needed it.

“Yeah, Sam. I can do that. Bye, Sam.”

They both sat there for a few minutes, neither saying a word but not hanging up. Sam heard a soft rustling and could envision the other boy nodding fiercely, trying to grasp the situation.

“Uh huh, okay, umm...okay, Sam. Goodbye.”

Georgie hung up and the line was no longer connected. Sam sniffed and his eyes felt hot and tears welled up, threatening to spill. Georgie was one of the closest friends he’d made in his life. Lucille was also up there on that list.

He took a few relaxing breaths to calm himself down and push back those tears so he could get through the next phone call. Could he really do that, though? Lucille was probably the closest friend he has ever had, other than his brother. He glanced back at his brother again, trying to draw comfort from the fact that he was still there. Dean was now outlined, his shadow stark against the white-washed background. 

He looked at Dean and instantly guilt and shame swept over him. 

He looked down at the phone in his hand and realised that he wouldn’t be able to make the call himself. He needed a little nudge. He meandered over to Dean, trying to go as slow as possible to maximise his chances of convincing himself to man-up. 

Not that Sam was aware enough to notice, but Dean had been watching him dawdle, ambling around cars to lengthen the time it took for him to slowly but surely make his way over to him. 

He’d already smothered a cigarette that Sam didn’t know he had, and the aching feeling coming back behind his eyes was tempting him to light another even as Sam approached. He shook his head and pushed away the urge as soon as it was registered.

“Sam, what the hell are you doing?”

He had to choke back a laugh as his kid brother jerked and he nearly fell from a misplaced foot. Luckily, he caught himself on the side of a car just in time. Dean was almost disappointed that he didn’t get to see that happen.

Sam’s face had burned red as he recovered, enough to see even in the limited light. “I-I don’t-” he stuttered, not quite able to collect himself yet. That was when Dean started laughing and Sam instantly sobered up, ready to defend himself from further embarrassment. “Stop laughing, Dean!” Sam hit Dean on the shoulder, repeating the action when Dean only laughed harder.

Dean collected himself, his breathing a big ragged and a smile still stretched across his face. “Alright! Relax, bitch, I’m done.”

Sam huffed. He let out a sound that told Dean he knew that that was bullshit. As if proving his point, Dean let out a badly smothered laugh that sounded a bit painful. Sam rolled his eyes, suddenly over the need for comfort from his big brother. He wouldn’t be able to get what he really needed if Dean was acting like this. 

He walked away, pulling his phone back out of his pocket. Pulling up Lucille’s number seemed a lot less daunting than it did two minutes ago. Sam supposed that having Dean break the serious mood really did help him relax. A deep breath and a whole bunch of bland motivational slogans later and he hit the green call button and held the phone shakily up to his ear.

“Hello? Sam?” Lucille said quickly. She sounded wide awake, but her voice was strained.

“Hey, Lucille. Yeah, it’s me,” Sam said lamely, not knowing where to go with this. Lucille was normally really easy to talk to, but there was no way that he could see where he could smoothly tell her the news without her freaking out.

Lucille, while being easy to talk to, was also a very emotion-driven person. No one could just say anything to her and expect a one hundred percent logical response. She wasn’t likely to shove away what she felt in favour of the facts of his moving. It wasn’t like her. Sam wouldn’t change that for the world even if it made things so much simpler in times like this.

Not only would Lucille freak out, but Sam already was freaking out. He was choking on his words and his vocal cords weren’t producing anything at all. Lucille was his first friend. She was the one to walk up to him, the new kid, and drag him along in an unexpected tour of the school. She was a life saver. She helped him navigate the things that would normally take him a couple weeks to figure out, like who to avoid, where to go for activities, where to find information, who were the best teachers and classes to snark to and nap during. She was what made him actually be able to tolerate this last move since everything around them was pretty crappy.

“Sam? Talk to me, buddy,” she said worriedly. 

Sam wondered idly if she could sense what he was feeling or planning to do even over the distance between them. “Yeah, alright, Lucille, just...give me a second to gather my thoughts?”

Lucille snorted. “Should’ve gathered them before you called, dummy.”

Sam let out a barking laugh that reminded him eerily of Dean. His lips still turned upward, he felt nothing but warm affection for his friend. She was awesome. The tension had been broken and now he felt like nothing he could say could ruin this friendship like he feared it would before. He knew that was untrue, but was willing to believe it if it would help him get this done and over with. 

“I’m leaving,” he blurted, wincing when he realised that it was too quick to be understood. He’d have to repeat it unless she managed to catch it. 

“What?”

Sam took a breath, working on slowing his words. “I’m leaving. Moving. We’re leaving in about an hour.”

“What do you mean, leaving? Why? Why is Dean- You know he can’t do that to you! He’s not your dad! He’s not your legal guardian! You don’t have to leave!” she ranted. This is what Sam had been afraid of. This did not stop him from feeling a type of protective anger when she started to harp on his brother. 

“It’s not his fault, Lucille! It’s mine! I was the one who decided to fuck off with you and Georgie! That was all me! And no, it wasn’t Dean’s decision. It was Dad’s. He was the one who found out what I did and decided to move. Don’t you dare blame this on Dean!” Sam snapped, breathing hard. 

Lucille was silent on the other side of the connection. 

“I just wanted to say goodbye.”

He heard a static-esque noise filter over. “I’m gonna miss you, Sam,” she mumbled. The line went dead and Sam stood still. He couldn’t comprehend what just happened. It was something so out of character for Lucille. He expected her to get mad and stay mad, to fight him when he fought her.

Over by the impala, Dean was still aching a bit from how hard he had been suppressing his laughter. He knew that Sam was having a lot harder of a time letting go of this place than he himself was. Sam managed to be a lot more personable wherever he went. He made friends relatively easily once he got past that awkward new kid stage. Once he made friends he got attached to whatever place their father had dumped them. 

This last place had been a quick favourite of Sam’s, not because of the things that were in it, but the people. He liked his peers here a lot more than the other places they’ve been to. There might have been a girl a year or so back that had been really close to Sam, but he vaguely recalled Sam intensely hating her right before they left.

He snapped out of his thoughts. Dean looked back toward his kid brother and saw that Sam was left with his phone pressed against his ear and a dumbfounded look on his face. He shuffled over to the frozen boy, careful not to startle him into flailing and smacking him. 

“Sam?” Dean asked once he was was sure there’d be no violence, placing an comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Sam responded, sounding like he wasn’t really all there.

“Come on, buddy. You still wanna see those stars?” Dean offered.

Sam inhaled deeply, soothed by Dean’s voice and pleasant suggestion. He turned toward the older male, nodding the entire way. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, letting himself be guided easily by Dean’s hand gripping his wrist loosely. His mind was still spinning with the idea of what really happened between him and Lucille, or lack thereof. He didn’t know what to think or what to feel. He had an intense curiosity of what Lucille was thinking about now, what she thought about him. It was a nasty thought process filled with ‘what if’s and questions he couldn’t answer.

“Sit,” Dean ordered, pushing Sam toward an old wooden bench covered in dew. He blinked, not recognising the space that Dean brought him to. A slight shove and Sam took the hint. He grimaced as he felt the moisture seep slightly into his jeans. Dean plopped down next to him, unbothered by it as he casually splayed out, throwing an arm around the back of the bench behind Sam and his knees spreading comfortably.

Sam couldn’t help the glare he levelled at Dean, thoroughly disgusted at how calm he was. This was no time for him to just ignore the fact that Sam was losing everything that he had built around himself again and that they (or more specifically, Dean) were under threat of their father again.

“Stop looking at me,” Dean said, not even looking at Sam. “Look at the stars.”

Sam let out a quiet snort, but obeyed nonetheless. He tilted his head up to follow where Dean was looking. 

A tiny gasp and the sudden slackness of Sam’s face was everything that Dean needed to be filled with the rare sensation of self-pride. He was glad that he could share one of these brotherly bonding moments with his brother. They’d less and less opportunity to do things like this as Sam got older and started to lose interest in hanging out with Dean. It was something that was saddening, but not unexpected or surprising. Sam didn’t have the same need for closeness and companionship and family that Dean had. He supposed the younger boy must, on some level, but usually fulfilled it by surrounding himself with friends and books, two things that made him happy.

Dean regretted that he had to wait for these moments, for Sam to be at his lowest, most vulnerable state for him to almost manipulate him into spending time with his big brother. Apparently, that regret wasn’t nearly enough for him to stop, because he hadn’t been as happy as he was pointing out constellations and the stories behind them than he had doing anything in a long while.

Sam was still absorbing the stories Dean was spinning when he heard a slightly muffled voice calling through the air. They could recognise it as John yelling that they better get back.

When Dean grabbed his wrist and started pulling again, this time with more force and urgency, Sam didn’t fight it. They raced through a barely distinguishable path that was less a path and more a slim break of hard earth between tufts of soft grass and weeds.

John was already marching toward them when they emerged from the woods.

“What the hell were you doing?” he growled.

“Stargazing,” Sam answered, moving around him so he could get to Dean’s car and slide into the front seat. 

John ignored his youngest and continued to stare at Dean, the heat of his glare making Dean look down and try to back away. He flung out a hand and whipped Dean in the face, palm smacking harshly on Dean’s temple and fingers curling around his cheekbone and eyebrow, nails not even digging in when he pulled back. It was relatively harmless, more startling than painful. The yelp Dean let out seemed excessive for the slight hit. The teenager curled in on himself and pressed his hands to his eyes and temples.

“Stop blubbering, boy! Be a man!” John scoffed, yanking Dean back toward the cars by the back of his neck. He stumbled, listing to one side when he tried to stand up straight.

When Dean finally managed to get in the driver’s seat of the impala and started her, Sam was already running his mouth frantically.

“Dean! Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? I saw that he hit you. DId it hurt? Dean-”

Dean slapped a hand over Sam’s mouth, likely a bit harder than he meant to, but he wasn’t really looking at Sam and was in a lot of pain.

“Yes, I’m fine! Jesus, just...Just give me a second,” Dean snapped, his voice losing its fire as he removed his hand and let himself slump in his seat to press a temple against the cool leather of the steering wheel.

Sam reached out a hand, unsure of what to do. He settled for a method that Dean always used to calm him down when they were a bit younger. A small smile softened the worry lines on his face as Dean didn’t even flinch from the hand suddenly petting his hair. If anything, Dean had relaxed just a bit more. 

They sat there silently, comfortable as Dean recovered from his...something. Sam wondered if it was another headache. He’d noticed that Dean had been sleeping less and less lately, instead tossing and turning and desperately trying and failing to fall unconscious. A good chunk of the time he’d ended up successful and got a few hours here and there, but a worryingly growing number of times had Dean rolling himself out of bed to do something else.

John honked the horn of his rusted truck and pulled out of the parking lot. 

Dean jerked minutely, obviously jolted by the sudden noise, but sat up slowly. When he looked over at Sam to see if he had his seatbelt on, he saw that his baby brother seemed to have aged about a decade.

“It’s just a headache, Sammy. Now, put your seatbelt on.” Dean looked over his shoulder and pulled out of the parking lot to catch up to their father.

They drove for hours. They didn’t talk all that much, but with the radio playing classic rock, the lack of talking was replaced with Dean singing his heart out and making Sam laugh at him. When the sun came up, Sam dug out two pairs of sunglasses so they wouldn’t go blind. By noon, Sam was three hours into a nap and Dean’s stomach had a dull ache instead of his head.

He pulled into a diner, parking close to his father’s truck. He unbuckled both himself and his brother, shaking Sam awake as John got out of the car.

Sam let out a tired growl, shoving Dean’s hand away. “Lemme sl’p,” he slurred, turning in his seat away from Dean. He was back asleep within seconds.

“Okay, no food for you,” Dean tauntingly appeased. He knew Sam would get up once he realised how hungry he really was. He didn’t think the younger teen had eaten since their early dinner the day before. He opened the car door, managing to shut just a little bit louder than normal. He didn’t dare risk the safety of his baby, even if it would be for his brother’s health. There were, after all, other ways to get Sam out of the car. He was almost hoping Sam wouldn’t get up; he was looking forward to opening Sam’s door and watching the boy fall out of the car.

He was nearly sad when Sam’s head shot up and he blearily shouted his state of awakeness. He kept going, heading into the diner, knowing that Sam was sure to follow. 

When Sam finally stumbled in, he found that Dean and John were already sitting at a booth opposite of each other. Dean scooted in once he caught sight, offering half the seat. Sam plopped down roughly, uncaring in manner. Dean slid over a menu.

The silence had crossed the border between tolerable and uncomfortable and straight into anxiety-inducing. They had only spoken briefly to place their order of drinks and food to the waitress. Sam refused to look at anything above the edge of the table, stuck between staring at his hands in his lap and getting distracted by the bouncing of Dean’s knee. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dean carefully but sporadically shift between holding his head in his hands and rubbing at his skin. No one said anything about it.

John made no attempt for interaction with his sons, positive or otherwise. He flipped through one of his journals, adding little notes here and there. He continued all the way up to the meal arriving. When it did, he slid the journal to the side, out of range for possible crumbs and smudges the yellowed pages.

The man tucked into his food. Sam shared an uneasy look with his brother before they started to nibble on their greasy food. Sam grimaced at the thought of what all this grease was doing to his body, but was willing to forgive himself just this once because he felt like he needed it. It felt like comfort food.

“Listen to me,” John said, pushing his plate back a few inches so he could fold his arms and lean on the table. It was still stacked with fries but the burger was polished off. 

The boys automatically pushed their plates back, too, quickly swallowing their bites and placing their hands in their laps. It had become habit from these talks like this. This is the part where John tells them what he’s hunting, where it’s going to be, and where he’s going to be dumping them for anywhere between one and five months. 

“There’s a hunt in Iowa. I need to talk to Bobby before I go. When I go,” John paused, taking a swallow of his drink. “I’m planning on leaving you with Bobby until I come back.”

They nodded, and Sam reached up to pull his plate back toward him. 

“Dean, you’re coming with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, I can’t write chapters this long and update frequently. So, would you prefer to have the chapters shorter or leave the update span as long as it is?
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns are all welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome! We made it all the way here again! Questions, comments, concerns (otherwise known as reviews) are welcome!


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